


Overwatch Returns

by cfcureton



Series: Overwatch [2]
Category: Arrow - Fandom, olicity - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:21:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22481746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cfcureton/pseuds/cfcureton
Summary: Newly-elected State Senator Oliver Queen finds himself in trouble while his wife is out of town. Luckily, Felicity had already asked Bruce Wayne to keep an eye on him.Too bad Bruce brought the wrong suit.
Relationships: John Diggle/Lyla Michaels, Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak
Series: Overwatch [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1617313
Comments: 72
Kudos: 193





	1. Chapter 1

Oliver Queen woke up happy. Part of him thought he should be used to the sensation by now, but it still happened every morning, and every morning he took a moment to revel in it. 

His wife was tucked up against him, his little spoon, blonde hair covering half of her face, a bit of it tickling his cheek. He could tell by her breathing she was awake too, so he propped his head on his hand to gaze down at her. 

“Good morning,” he murmured.

Felicity made a happy, sleepy, grumbly noise and wriggled around until she was on her back. She shoved a foot between his knees, laced her fingers together under her breasts, and finally opened one eyelid a crack. 

“Mmmff,” she said. Oliver leaned forward enough to leave a light kiss on her brow. 

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” He used his sexy voice. 

Both eyes opened and she turned her head to see him better. “That the invention of the air conditioner essentially killed the paperweight industry?”

“Umm...what?”

“Okay, hear me out.” Her hands emerged from under the covers so she could scratch her elbow. “Once everyone went to air conditioning they stopped opening their windows. No open windows, no drafts. No drafts, no need for paperweights.”

“That wasn’t what I was thinking at all, believe it or not.” He slipped a hand under the covers to trace a pattern lightly on her stomach. No need to tell Overwatch to take a hike; Felicity had reprogrammed all the bedroom cameras so they would only record if a window was broken or if there was an intruder detected in another part of the house. “Is that the ONLY thing you were thinking?”

She peered up at him from under her lashes and pulled her lower lip between her teeth. Oliver growled. 

“I have to pack for my trip.”

“Your flight isn’t until 5:30, Felicity.”

“I know. But I have to go over my presentation again and—“

“Felicity.”

She sighed but waited for him to go on. 

“Can we talk about this please? We’ve danced around it for months.”

“Oliver, I just think we’re on different pages about this.” She wiggled back to lean against the headboard and he straightened his arm and sat up. 

“Okay, well it would be helpful if you’d tell me what page you’re on. You said yourself that you can take a bit of a break after this trip, so this seems like the logical time. Honey, William is going to be fifteen this year. I’d like to have both our kids in the same house with us for a couple of years, at least.”

“But you just became a State Senator.”

“So? I’ll be in session three months of the year. The rest of it I’ll be a stay-at-home dad. It’s not like we can’t afford it.”

“And those three months?”

“We’ll get a nanny. We’ll get—“ he waved a hand around—“Super Nanny.” She huffed a laugh and he took her hand in his, sensing a victory. “We can do this, Felicity. I want us to do this.” He leaned in to kiss her softly. “I want to make a baby with you.”

He stayed where he was, so close they were both almost cross-eyed. 

“I have to take a shower,” she said softly. 

She didn’t invite him to join her. 

——————————————————-

“Your last budget to sign off on, boss.”

“Thanks, Liz.” Oliver glanced up from his report. “How’s the job search going?”

“Lousy. You?”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “I just landed a decent gig. Fewer hours, but the pay sucks. Come work for me.”

“At the State House? The Old Boys Club? No thanks.” 

“C’mon, Liz. Be the change you want to see.”

She pointed a finger at him. “None of your campaign mumbo jumbo, Mr Mayor.”

He grinned. 

“Hey Oliver. Felicity’s on the phone.”

He opened his mouth to reply but Liz beat him to it. 

“It’s Mr Mayor at work, Overwatch.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Put her through, Overwatch. And then order the usual from the deli. Noon delivery.”

“You got it, Liz.”

Oliver shook his head in wonder as she left his office and closed the door. Everybody got along with his security system better than he did. 

“Hey. This a good time?”

“For you? Always.”

“I thought I’d stop by a minute on my way to the airport. Are you free around 2:30?”

He smiled into the air. A simple inquiry to Overwatch would’ve given her the answer. 

“I’m free. Stop on by.”

“Okay, great. We still need to decide on a gift, for the shower. For John and Lyla’s...for the...thing.”

“The baby. You can say the word, Felicity. I promise not to freak out.”

He was going for funny, but it was met with only silence. He sighed. “I’ll see you around 2:30 and we’ll take care of it.”

“Okay. See you.”

“Bye.”

His eyes dropped to his desk and the object sitting next to a photo of his wife and son. ARGUS had returned his chunk of the Berlin Wall, more or less, but in two pieces instead of one. He and Felicity had given one of them to John and Lyla for a wedding gift and the other rested on his desk as a conversation starter and a paperweight.

Oliver tried not to think of it as obsolete.

——————————————————-

She blew into his office like a spring breeze, gorgeous in a hot pink dress and heels. He stood and came around his desk so he could lean against it as he gathered her into his arms. 

“I’m gonna miss you,” he whispered into her hair. Felicity hugged him fiercely for a second and then leaned back with her arms around his neck. She scratched the back of his head affectionately. 

“As busy as you’ll be with your transition to the new administration? You won’t even notice I’m gone,” she teased. “But, if you do get lonely, Bruce will be in Starling later this week—“

“Pass.”

“You don’t have to date the guy, just grab a beer—“

“Pass.” Oliver lifted one eyebrow to emphasize his decision. She rolled her eyes. 

“He’s a nice guy, Oliver. I promise.”

“He monopolizes way too many of my wife’s evening hours. Even if it’s important.”

She poked him once in the chest. “It IS important. And NO, I cannot talk about it.”

“Hey, maybe if I get him drunk enough HE’LL talk about it.” 

“Ha ha.”

“So, the shower gift,” he prompted. 

Felicity’s hands slid down over his chest. She ran his tie through her fingers and gave it a tiny tug. 

“There’s something I need from you first.”

Oliver gulped. “Here? Now?”

She nodded slowly. “Here and now.”

———————————————————

“I really didn’t expect it to take this long,” Felicity huffed. “I didn’t know you had this problem.”

“I don’t! Well, not often. It doesn’t help that you’re watching. It’s embarrassing enough as it is.”

“Should I get Liz? Maybe she can help.”

“No! She’ll just laugh.” He huffed a sigh and frowned. “It happens to everyone eventually, you know.”

Felicity gave him a look that said it had never happened to HER. “Well, I could—“

“You are not going to hack into my email account, Felicity. We’ve talked about this. I’ll just admit to Google that I can’t remember the password and reset it.” It was quiet for a moment as he worked. “How did you manage to delete your email with the shower invite anyway?” he asked, furiously tapping the keyboard. She fidgeted at his shoulder and started to mumble an excuse, but before he could question her further his email account finally granted him access. 

“Bingo. I’m in.”

It was quiet for a minute as he navigated to the link with the baby registry. 

“What looks good?” he asked as he scrolled through the long list of crib sheets, diaper bags, and onesies. Felicity flipped a hand at the screen. 

“I don’t know. You’re the expert. What do babies need?” She leaned over his shoulder and squinted at a nasal aspirator bulb. “What kind of torture device is that?”

Oliver chuckled. “It’s not a torture device. You use it to suck snot out of their noses.” She made a gagging noise so he scrolled on quickly. “On second thought, it kind of IS a torture device.”

“Anything on the list that doesn’t involve—*gak*—mucus?”

“There’s a pretty swanky stroller in here.”

“Great. Perfect. Get that.” Felicity leaned around his arm to plant a kiss on him. “I gotta go.”

“Hey.” He grabbed after her hand and pulled her back for another peck. “Safe travels. Love you.”

“Love you too. I’ll be home Friday in time for the shower. Get the store to gift wrap that for you,” she added over her shoulder as she hustled out of the room. 

Oliver added the stroller to their cart and then scrolled through the list one more time. A front-facing baby carrier similar to the one he’d used with William caught his eye and he gave it a wistful smile. 

He added that to the cart too and clicked the Check Out button. 

——————————————————

John Diggle opened the door with a wide smile. 

“Good afternoon, Senator.”

“I’m not sworn in yet, John.”

“Technicalities. Thanks for coming to help me build the bassinet from hell.”

Oliver shrugged, his hands in his pockets. “Felicity’s traveling all week and William’s at cross country practice, so my time is my own.”

“I can pay you in beer.”

“Even better.”

John led the way down the hall to the nursery and the pile of parts that was meant to be a piece of furniture.

“Just got it painted last weekend,” he explained as Oliver took in the room filled with light shades of gray and yellow. 

“Wow. I didn’t know they made baby blankets in camouflage.”

John laughed. “They make EVERYTHING in camouflage.” He paused in the middle of the room to watch Oliver in the doorway. 

“Somebody has baby fever,” he guessed softly as he squatted down for the instruction sheet. 

Oliver huffed a laughed. “Is it that obvious?”

“It’s the look I’ve seen in the mirror for seven and a half months now.” 

“Unfortunately, I don’t think I’m contagious,” Oliver sighed, letting his head tip to rest against the door frame. John nodded a couple of times.

“You know, Lyla wasn’t much interested in talking about starting a family either, and then one day...“ He snapped his fingers. “Full speed ahead. Give her time. She’ll come around.”

Oliver stared out over the project in front of him for another moment as John hunted around for the Allen wrench, then shrugged out of his suit coat and knelt down to join his friend on the floor. 

————————————————

Every light in the house was on, which meant William was home. Oliver sighed as he crossed the street; the illuminated rooms displayed against the darkness highlighted every project that still needed to be completed.

In order to represent the District that included the Glades at the state level he needed to live there, so six months ago they’d bought a row house around the corner from Diggle’s gym and begun renovations. As soon as the major upgrades were done—and Overwatch had been installed—they’d moved in, but there were tons of smaller projects that still needed to be finished. Just thinking about it made him tired.

“Hey Oliver,” the disembodied voice of Barry Allen chirped as he walked in. 

“Hi Barry.” 

“Did you eat? I can call in something.”

“I’m good.”

William’s door was closed. Oliver leaned against the door jam, suddenly weary from his long day, and knocked lightly. There was a muffled sound that might or might not be a grunt of acknowledgement, and after a long moment the door opened. Father and son could look each other in the eye now, which never failed to make Oliver warm with pride.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Have a good day?”

William shrugged. “Fine.”

“Felicity’s gone til the end of the week...”

His son nodded. 

“...so, could you do the thing?”

William sighed. “I guess.” He shouldered past his father and headed for the access panel for Overwatch. “You know this is creepy, right?”

Oliver didn’t really have a good answer for that, so he kept his mouth shut. William punched a few keys and flipped the panel door closed. 

“Hello, Oliver.”

“Hey, Overwatch.” Just hearing her voice made him feel better.

“Can I get you anything?”

“Could you check on Felicity for me? Make sure her flight got in okay?”

“Sure.”

Oliver used the wait to thank William and wish him a good night, then went room to room switching off lights before heading upstairs to the half-finished master suite as his security system reported back her findings in his wife’s voice. 

———————————————————

Halfway across the city, someone was talking about him.

“She’s out of town. This is the week to get him.”

“Are we breaking in?”

“With that security system? Not a chance.”

The man at the end of the table smiled. “Every security system has a weakness. I can take this one out right under their noses.”

“So we kill it and take Queen.”

“Yes. And then we use him to flush Felicity Smoak—or should I say Oracle—into the light of day.”


	2. Chapter 2

Oliver’s first thought when he woke was that they were under attack. The bed shook under him, and the rumble and crash of heavy machinery sounded like a tank was headed for the house. His arm flew out to protect Felicity automatically, but when his hand found only empty pillow his head popped up to assess the situation. 

“Overwatch!” he barked, rolling out of bed and down to one knee. “Report!”

“Good morning, Oliver,” she offered calmly in Felicity’s voice. “It’s 6:35am. The temperature is—“

“Not the temperature, Overwatch! WHAT is going ON?!”

“The city workers are here,” she replied, the essence of patience, as if the answer was obvious and he was just being obtuse. Another clank and squeal sent him crawling to the window to peek over the sill.

“WHAT—oh my god.”

The front yard, or what USED to be the front yard, was now a trench six feet wide and eight feet deep. A giant excavator gouged the earth with abandon, scooping bucketfuls of dirt and spinning to deposit them in the back of a dump truck that took up most of the street. Meanwhile, men in reflective vests directed traffic and a skid steer zipped around doing little more, it appeared, then track mud all over the sidewalk. 

Oliver blew out a huge, calming breath and tried again. “Overwatch, WHY are the city workers here?”

“Mrs McGinley’s sewer line needed to be replaced.”

“Then why aren’t they destroying Mrs McGinley’s front yard?” he muttered into the sheer curtains.

“Pursuant to Article five, Sub-Section C of the Starling City Registry of Historic Sites and Monuments, any and all construction, repair, or restoration of structures under ground cannot be less than twenty five feet from the foundation of a registered historic property unless said work is necessary to secure the historic structure, or failure to make the repair would threaten more than ten percent of said historic structure.”

Oliver blinked once, feeling a headache coming on.

“Okay, but why didn’t they tell  
us first?” I’m still the mayor, he thought but didn’t say. Overwatch had an uncanny memory for pithy remarks. 

“A member of public works made a phone call to Felicity last Friday.”

“Okay...” It seemed to be the only word he could consistently come up with. “Don’t they have my number too?”

“There used to be two people in the department to handle public relations and information, but budget cuts eliminated one of them. They’ve been forced to cut back to informing only one number on the contact list.”

Oliver ran a hand through his hair and squinted, annoyed with his wife for forgetting to pass on the information, and with himself for being the idiot who’d slashed the damn budget. 

God, being an adult was hard.

“Who do we call to fix this?”

“Calling Felicity Smoak—“

“Overwatch, no! She’s on the east coast. It’s almost ten o’clock. She’ll be in the middle of her presentation.”

“Yes, Oliver. I can send her an email.”

“Okay, do that. And forward footage from the building cameras, so she knows what she’s talking about when she calls to get it straightened out.” He might be the mayor, but everybody knew who was in charge of the Queen household. 

“Yes, Oliver.”

“I’m gonna take a shower.”

“I’m sorry, Oliver, but the water to the house has been turned off temporarily.”

Of course. “How temporarily?” God, he couldn’t even speak English anymore. 

“Current estimates range anywhere from two to twelve hours.” Was she being smug? Probably.

“Okay. Overwatch, please tell William we’re leaving twenty minutes early and stopping by the gym for showers.”

“Yes, Oliver.”

“Hey Dad?” The deep voice of his son floated up the stairs from the first floor. “You know we can’t get out the front door, right?”

——————————————-

Two hours later, Oliver ran his hands up over his face and accepted the call Overwatch had kept on hold until he could find an excuse to end his meeting. 

“Hey there.” Amusement and love laced his wife’s voice.

“Hello.” He sounded pathetic, with his face muffled by his hands.

“You’ve had quite a morning.”

Oliver sat back in his chair and closed his eyes with a beleaguered sigh. “I take it you got the video?”

“I did. Did John teach you those moves? That roll out of bed was impressive.”

He cracked one eyelid in confusion. Moves?

“What—“

Her sparkling laugh made him want to smile despite his mood.

“I may have asked Overwatch to reconnect our bedroom cameras when I’m out of town. I like to watch you sleep.”

Oliver huffed a laugh. “That is...sweet. And creepy.”

“I know.” Felicity didn’t sound the least bit sorry about that. 

“Please tell me you got footage of the actual construction work too.”

“I did, so I’m just calling to let you know I’ve put a call in with Public Works to see if they can step the time table up in reconnecting the water, at least. The crevasse is going to have to stay a few days, I’m afraid. There’s an Article in the city’s Registry of Historic Sites and Monuments, Sub Section C, I think—“

“I know the one.”

“Oh, good.” She sounded impressed. Oliver stared out into space and tried not to take it personally. “Anyway, nothing we can do about the work needing to be done, but I’ll do my best to make sure it’s as inconvenient as possible. Okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“Happy to help.” There was a pause, and then her voice got soft. “Sorry you’re dealing with this alone.”

Oliver’s heart melted. “I’m not alone. I have you.”

“Awww, you’re sweet. And you also have Overwatch, which is good, because I have to get to my next meeting. William okay?”

He could hear her breathing change; she was on the move, his girl, on her way to take over the corporate world. He loved her so much.

“He’s fine. Have a great day. I’ll talk to you tonight.”

“Bye.”

——————————————————-

The trench was still there at the end of the day. Oliver and William stood side by side at the edge of the street and surveyed the scene without speaking. Someone had taken pity on them and placed two heavy ten foot planks across the pit so they could at least get to the house. 

“We should probably work on finding the key to the back gate,” Oliver muttered. None of them had seen it since the day they moved in. “Don’t try to cross until I—“

But William was already headed for the other side, navigating the planks with the careless grace of a circus performer. Oliver’s mouth fell open just as Tommy hailed them both from his car. 

“Hey! I like the moat!”

Oliver sighed through his nose and ignored him.

Tommy was walking through the front door five minutes later. “Greetings, Overwatch,” he quipped.

“Good afternoon, Tommy.”

His eyes immediately lit up and he turned to Oliver with an enormous smile. “Hey! She’s back!” He turned to grin at the ceiling. “How’s my girl?”

“No matter which voice I use, it’s always me, Tommy,” the security system reminded him. 

He chuckled. “It really isn’t.”

Oliver couldn’t argue with that. He turned to head to the kitchen with his best friend on his heels. 

“Is the Missus on board with you switching her voice back?”

Oliver winced. “She doesn’t know. Will’s found a way to bypass the settings so the Felicity voice is only inside the house. Everywhere else it’s Larry.”

“Barry.”

“Right.”

Oliver opened the fridge and stared for several seconds, lost. Tommy sighed; he really was the most pathetic SOB when his wife was out of town. 

“Overwatch, my darling, order the usual from Willie T’s.”

“Okay, Tommy. You sure you want the full order, since Felicity’s gone?”

He tipped his head in thought and caught Oliver staring at him. “Uh, yeah, go ahead and get the whole thing. I usually end up eating her share anyway.”

Oliver huffed, amused, but didn’t try to contradict the food order. Barbecue sounded good. He pulled two beers from the fridge and trailed Tommy to the living room.

They slouched into the couch as Oliver flipped to ESPN and then tossed the remote at the coffee table and went for his tie. 

“Rough day?”

Oliver grunted in answer. They sipped in silence for thirty minutes. 

“Oliver?”

“What’s up, Overwatch?”

“The delivery driver is on the phone. He’s out front.”

Oliver was suddenly too weary to get up from the couch. “Tell him to come on in, Overwatch.”

“He can’t.”

He and Tommy glanced at each other.

“Why not?”

“He says he’s afraid of heights.”

Tommy’s mouth made an “Oh” of understanding and Oliver sighed. 

“Right.” The damned trench. “Tell him I’ll be right out, Overwatch.”

————————————————————

Tommy stayed past dinner, but made sure he was walking out the door before Felicity called to check in. Oliver saw him to the door, waved a goodnight to his son, and climbed the stairs to the attic space they were still trying to work out a use for. At the moment it only held miscellaneous boxes and an ancient overstuffed chair of Felicity’s. He flopped into it and propped his feet on a cardboard box and let his wife tell him every single detail of her day. 

Never much of a talker himself, Oliver loved to listen to her say anything, really. He loved her babbles, and her tangents—which, more often than not, were truly brilliant—and the stories of meeting the rich and famous as she peddled her security system to businesses and private clients alike. Thanks to her seemingly endless amount of random trivia knowledge, he always came away from one of their conversations learning something new, which would’ve impressed his parents. He would always be sorry they never met her. 

“Enough about me,” she finally sighed, “tell me about your day. Are you ready to say goodbye to the old mayor’s office and move down the street to the Statehouse?”

Oliver made a noise under his breath which could mean any of a number of things; even he wasn’t sure what he was feeling. “I’m going from being Top Dog to Junior State Senator in an office that probably used to be a broom closet. It’s humbling.”

“You have to start somewhere,” she reasoned gently. “As the Mayor you took care of the city you love. Now you can represent the people who live there at the state level. It’s no small thing, Oliver.”

“I know.” It was hard to stay in the dumps when she was being so optimistic and logical, but he gave it his best shot. “I don’t have a law degree. I don’t have any experience writing legislation, or...getting it passed. I just hope they take me seriously.”

“What you have, Oliver, is passion. You care about this city and the people in it. That’s the message you have to get across.”

He sighed and wriggled further into the fabric of the chair, wishing he could wrap his arms around her. Talking to thin air just wasn’t enough.

“I miss you,” he said softly.

“Not as much as I miss you.”

“Come home early.” He laced his voice with a bit of a growl and just a touch of heat, but enough that she would definitely get his meaning.

“Oliver...” 

He ignored the warning in her voice. “Just a day. Come home Thursday. I can send William to Tommy’s...”

“I have a jam-packed day Thursday, and you know it. I can’t blow off meetings with some of the biggest potential clients I’ve ever had.”

“Bigger than me?” he asked, all deep and husky. He was starting to get into this.

“Ah ha. I see what you did there. But it’s not going to work.”

“But—“

“No.”

“Just a little—“

“Oliver.” 

That was the final warning. He tipped his head back and grinned at the rafters. “Okay. I’ll be good.”

“Alright.”

“Very, VERY good.”

She burst into giggles and his smile widened.

“Well, be very, very good to Bruce. He gets in tomorrow afternoon and he’s under orders to meet you for dinner. Overwatch is making the arrangements so you can’t find an excuse not to go.”

Oliver’s flirtatiousness evaporated at the mention of Wayne. He swallowed a groan, because that was guaranteed to get him into trouble.

“Oliver?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me you heard me and you’re going to have dinner with him.”

Oliver grumbled under his breath and pictured his wife’s expression as she waited for him to comply. He could practically hear her toe tapping.

“Fine.”

“Good.”

“But I’m not putting out.”

Felicity burst into laughter and the corners of his mouth pulled up into a smile.

“Goodnight, you weirdo. I love you.”

“I love you too. More than anything,” he promised. 

———————————————————-

It had been laughably simple to phone in to Public Works as cranky old lady McGinley and complain about the sewer smell in her brownstone, even easier to fake the records that several departments had already been out to investigate and had all agreed the only solution was to tear out the section of sewer in front of Mayor Queen’s house. Bureaucracy was so helpful in the crime world. 

He had accomplished all that on his own—just in case—before they ever held their meeting to agree that taking down the Dark Knight would be more effective if it was done with surgical precision instead of dynamite. Eliminate the Bat’s eyes and ears to get to him.

And to do that, they had to get to HER.

At first he couldn’t believe she would really be a willing accomplice to a vigilante, this unassuming blonde with a handsome, public servant husband and a step son. But the security company was a clue, and when he went hunting into her cyber life and accidentally stumbled into her personal system—Overwatch, she called it—the pieces of the puzzle began to fit. 

Somehow, Felicity Smoak had gotten herself wrapped up in Batman’s crusade.

Sure, they could’ve snatched her off the street and tortured her for information, but that came with its own set of problems: kidnapping cute IT girls made genius crime lords look like monsters. So he’d switched his focus to the husband; she was clearly crazy about him, which meant she’d be willing to reveal the identity of her boss to get him back. Meanwhile, the public name-calling of villains in general (and him in particular) would likely stay at a minimum, because just about everyone could come up with a reason why a rich man in a position of power deserved a bit of a shake down.

Of course, he wasn’t just any rich man; up until recently their family had been tailed by Mayor Queen’s security, which complicated matters, but now that his time in office was ending, the rules had changed. The transition from public protection back to private—Queen was a billionaire, after all—wasn’t seamless, and the man himself had taken to going out into his neighborhood without any body guards at all. It was fascinating how a few self-defense classes and a smart phone—a REALLY smart phone, but still—could give a person the illusion of safety. 

This problem had been studied and worked out for a long time, and he had planned for every contingency. 

He spun his chair back to his desk and the conference call on his phone. They were as ready as they would ever be.

“Take him tomorrow,” he ordered.

They didn’t call him The Calculator for nothing.


	3. Chapter 3

The endless stream of traffic through his office hadn’t changed since the election, it had just shifted from people wanting something from the mayor to people wanting something from the new state senator. Oliver added a note to the file he’d opened on his computer and sat back with a sigh; his To Do list was growing by the day.

Liz’s head popped around the door. “Your dinner plans have been arranged.” She winked. “I wish I could be a fly on the wall for this, Mr Mayor.”

Oliver shot her a look which she ignored, as usual. His EA walked on into the room, a stack of files in her arms. “How do you even manage it? First you’re friends with a Greek God who owns half the gyms in the city, and now you’re eating dinner with a world-famous billionaire playboy. I should make you introduce me.”

“Is he world-famous?” Oliver sighed and ran his hand over his face. “He probably is.”

He sat back in his chair. He’d miss this chair. It was a good one. “Have arrangements been made for William tonight?” 

“Overwatch?”

“William will be with Mr Merlyn after cross country practice. Would you like me to find out what their dinner plans are?” 

Oliver suppressed a smile; Overwatch loved to check up on Tommy and report back. “No Overwatch, I trust them. What time is my dinner?”

Liz had the answer for this one. “6:45. Mr Wayne confirmed he will pick you up from your house at 6:20.”

Oliver frowned at that. “I can’t meet him there?”

“Apparently not.”

A Felicity Rule, then. Liz never tried to get him out of one of those.

“Mr Mayor, the governor just sent you an email. Would you like me to read it?”

Liz rolled her eyes dramatically, but she was grinning all the same. Overwatch only offered to read emails from VIPs or spam. Everything else was ignored. 

“Read it out, Overwatch,” he decided.

“Congratulations Queen, you handsome son of a—“

“Uh, skip that part, Overwatch.”

“Yes, Mr Mayor.”

Liz disappeared through the doorway with a laugh.

—————————————-

It was nothing to copy the uniform of a city worker—muddy jeans and a hard hat seemed to do the trick—and show up in front of the Queen residence late in the afternoon. The tool belt and the large bundle of wiring slung over his shoulder served to convince anyone working that he was legitimate. 

The Calculator descended the ladder into the trench and got to work.

——————————————

“Lights on at 7pm, Overwatch. Especially the front porch. William probably won’t be home before then, and I don’t want him falling into the pit on the way to the house.”

“Yes, Oliver.”

He took a moment to breathe deeply with his eyes closed. Even if it was a digital reproduction of his wife’s voice, it was still soothing. 

“Any advice for getting through this dinner alive, Overwatch?”

“Chew your food thoroughly. Choking is the fourth most common cause of accidental death.”

Oliver huffed out a laugh. “Not exactly what I meant, but thanks anyway.”

“You’re welcome. Enjoy your dinner.”

“Don’t wait up.”

“I never shut down, Oliver. That wouldn’t be safe.”

“No, I—never mind. It was a joke.” 

He left the house early to make sure he’d completed the harrowing journey across the plank by the time his ride showed up. Work on the sewer appeared to be winding down for the night; there was only one guy left that Oliver could see.

“Everything going okay down there?” he called by way of conversation while he waited. The worker glanced up but kept working.

“Everything is just about perfect.”

Oliver nodded at that, pleased. “How soon do you think it’ll be finished?” He mentally crossed his fingers for good news.

The man in the trench took a moment to consider. “Very soon,” he promised with a smile.

Just then Bruce Wayne pulled up in a black Maserati with tinted windows. The passenger side window rolled down dramatically as the engine purred in idle.

“I didn’t know you could rent one of those,” Oliver said by way of a greeting. 

Bruce’s expression didn’t change. “You can’t.” They stared each other down for a second. “You’re building a moat?” 

There was a hint of approval in his voice.

“Long story.”

His eyes flicked past him to the hole in the ground, but he didn’t take Oliver up on the offer for additional explanation. “Get in.”

Oliver had already conducted countless conversations with this man in his head over the years, most of them involving the subject of his wife—all of them involving him getting the upper hand—so it wasn’t hard to sit quietly in the passenger seat and let those things go unspoken now.

Maybe Wayne was having the same experience; the entire drive was silent.

He took them down to the wharf, an area city planners had been working for years to turn into a chic dining and shopping district. Oliver had to admit, the results had been a little hit-or-miss. 

“Your office validate parking down here?”

It took him a second to realize Bruce was making a joke. He decided not to laugh. They both stopped just outside the door of the restaurant; Oliver opened and closed his mouth once before choosing his words.

“You’re sure this is the place she said.”

“This is the address I was sent.”

Oliver shot him some side eye. “From Felicity, or Overwatch? She can have a wicked sense of humor.”

“Which one?”

Oliver thought about that a second. 

“Both, actually.”

“We could go somewhere else.”

“No good. She’ll track my phone.”

“Which—“

“Both... actually.”

Bruce gave him a look that he interpreted to be pity and gestured for him to go ahead.

The interior of the restaurant was clearly suffering from an identity crisis. Fishing paraphernalia littered the walls and ceiling, in direct competition with the fake cactus and hay bales reminiscent of a Texas ranch. They pulled benches up to either side of a table overlooking the dockside and sporting both a tablecloth made of fishing nets and a napkin dispenser covered in horseshoes. 

Their server was wearing chaps and an eyepatch.

“Ahoy, pardners!” 

Oliver gave her a faintly pained smile. 

She grinned from ear to ear. “Have you eaten with us before?”

The two men shared the briefest look before indicating they definitely had not. She took their drink order and moved on. 

“So. Your wife has a sense of humor.”

Oliver focused on fiddling idly with a knot in the fishing net and smiled. “She does indeed.”

Two bottles of beer plunked down in front of them as they opened their menus for Buckaroo Billy’s Pirate Cove. Oliver scanned the items on offer and wondered how long he could go before he had to start an actual conversation with this guy. 

“There is nothing going on between Felicity and me.”

He said it from behind his menu, so at first Oliver wasn’t entirely sure Bruce was speaking to him. He held his breath and waited.

“I know you’ve worried about it from time to time.”

Oliver peered at his companion over the menu. “Not even for a second,” he assured him with an edge to his voice. 

For the first time all night, Bruce Wayne smiled.

—————————————-

William loved Tommy Merlyn like a second father, but sometimes he felt like the only grown up in the room. 

“We should probably go.”

“Not...just...yet.” Lights blinked wildly as the pinball machine in their favorite pizza place blared a high score victory song. Tommy let out a celebratory whoop.

“Ahaaa! Told ya I could do it!” He held up his palm for a high five which William pretended not to see.

“I have homework...”

“Ah, you’re no fun. Your dad and I never did homework, and we turned out okay.”

William rolled his eyes. “Well, Felicity ALWAYS did hers, and she’s smarter than both of you combined.”

Tommy looked like he wanted to dispute that, but then had to shrug in agreement.

“Back to Chez Queen then?”

William nodded, already turning for the door. 

“I’ll let Overwatch know we’re on our way.”

—————————————-

The men in charge of kidnapping Queen followed the Maserati he’d gotten into down to the wharf; when the driver of the luxury sports car got out with their target, they exchanged a glance.

“Phone it in,” the first one said. Their boss picked up on the third ring.

“I’m very busy and very muddy. What do you need?”

“Queen’s got a guy with him. Huge, and mean looking.”

“It’s probably his new personal security. Take him as well.”

The two exchanged a glance. 

“Got it.” 

The guy in the passenger seat tapped his earpiece. “Set up the barrier.”

——————————————-

Oliver eyed his Cowboy Burger with a side of fried clams and shook his head slowly. The lights dimmed and the music came up and, on a stage somewhere behind him, Buckaroo Billy’s Wild West Pirate Show began. 

“She can be positively diabolical,” he muttered at the plate, and thought he heard Bruce snort his agreement. 

The band of animatronic sharks and sheep struck up a boisterous sea shanty and Bruce shrugged. “At this rate we won’t be able to hear ourselves talk.”

“So you’re saying it could be worse,” Oliver practically yelled. Bruce tipped his beer bottle in acknowledgment.

“Don’t forget folks, we’ll be looking for volunteers to help us with the second half of our show!” 

The looks of mild amusement froze on both their faces. 

——————————————-

The longer he worked, the more he admired the care and workmanship that had gone into the security system. It was pretty close to perfect. 

Felicity’s only mistake was giving it a central nervous system that could be severed with only a fake phone call to the city and a computer hacker who didn’t mind getting a little dirty. 

Overwatch died in a shower of sparks.

——————————————-

Tommy noticed the frown on William’s face as they were walking out of the restaurant.

“What?”

William kept staring at his phone. “She’s not answering.”

“Felicity?”

“No, Overwatch.”

Tommy leaned in to peer over his shoulder. “Maybe it’s bad reception.”

The look on William’s face said that wasn’t really a thing anymore, not for them, not with Felicity’s phones. Tommy shrugged.

“We’re heading straight home, and then you can check on her.”

————————————————-

The singers and dancers—the ones who weren’t robotic, at any rate—had left the stage to roam the restaurant in search of good sports, and by the look on Wayne’s face he intended to be no such thing. 

Finally, Oliver thought, something we agree on.

“You ready?” Bruce was already pulling a wad of bills from his wallet to leave on the table.

“I’ve got it,” Oliver insisted.

Bruce’s eyes flicked up to his in mild warning. “It’s my treat.”

Oliver caught sight of a lady pirate picking her way through the crowd with a gleam in her eye and swallowed his protest. He nodded once, tight, and they headed for the exit at speed. Bruce was leading the charge out the front door, so Oliver didn’t realize there was a problem until he all but plowed into the back of his companion.

“What the...” Bruce muttered.

He shifted to the side to give Oliver a look; cones and plastic caution tape festooned the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, and a city worker carrying a jackhammer was setting up to begin demolition. Another worker waved them to their left, in the direction of the alley. A detour. The two men exchanged a look.

“Your administration have a thing for infrastructure?” he questioned mildly. Oliver frowned and stepped past him to enter the alley. He was formulating a pithy reply when a thought occurred to him.

“Wait. Why would they start a new project this late in the day? Overwatch...”

Behind him Bruce froze and began to turn back.

The pinch from the tranq dart was the last thing Oliver remembered.


	4. Chapter 4

Twenty two. Felicity had checked the time on her phone exactly twenty two times (and counting) in the past two hours, which was tricky when she was one of a half dozen people in the room and those other five people were sitting facing HER. 

The Daily Planet was a well known name in the media world, no question, but what they needed with a cyber security system like Overwatch she just couldn’t see. Weren’t newspapers as a form of information on their way out? Perry White definitely still thought it was relevant; the first hour of this meeting had been nothing but him giving a lecture on the history of print media in general—most of which she’d already learned from that Mass Com elective she’d taken in college and still remembered because she had one of “those” memories—and the Planet’s history specifically. 

It wasn’t uninteresting, it was just dry. Soo dry. And the only other person who seemed to agree was the dark haired guy in the back of the room. He was handsome—not Oliver handsome, but c’mon—tall and broad shouldered, but trying to minimize it by hunching forward and folding in on himself a bit. Like he was afraid of intimidating others with his size.

Like if he allowed himself to let go, he would be Something To See. 

Mr White used her name at the beginning of his next sentence and she dragged her focus back to the present and her host’s lamentations on digital media’s strangle hold on the world of print. 

“Isn’t it true that libraries are finding it cheaper to purchase printed books than digital copies because of the restrictions publishers put on how many times they can be borrowed before they have to be purchased again?” Like most of the observations in her head, she hadn’t meant to say that out loud. 

White sat back in his chair, looking a little surprised. “Then you are familiar with our struggles, Ms Smoak.”

“I, uh, certainly am, I just don’t, well, I’m not quite seeing how an Overwatch security system could help you in this situation.”

He leaned forward again, animated, and threw a hand behind him. “Kent, there, he was the one who pitched the idea of getting your security system. He says it’s the cutting edge of technology, and if we want to stay relevant we need cutting edge.” He dropped his chin into his hand like he was expecting her to talk now, to tell him all the wonderful ways Overwatch could help him keep a newspaper business alive. Or explain the definition of “cutting edge”. It was all very bewildering. 

“Uh, Perry, if we’re going to make that dinner reservation we’ll have to get going.” That was the big guy in the back, looking sheepish. Felicity pictured Oliver’s effortless grace in public, or even Bruce’s quiet authority, and felt a little sorry for him. 

“Right. Dinner. I’ll leave you to it.” The Editor in Chief stuck out a hand that engulfed her own and shook once, hard. “See you in the morning, Ms Smoak.”

Wait. What?

The room cleared, leaving her alone save for the big guy, now standing and towering over her but still trying very hard not to be scary.

“It’s just...us?” she blurted, unable to keep the bewilderment out of her voice.

His face immediately morphed into concern. “Is that a problem? I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable—“

He looked so freaked out, Felicity waved both hands at him to cut him off. “No, no, it’s fine! I’m just surprised. That it’s just you. Who...are you, again?”

The concern melted into a puppy dog smile. “Clark Kent. I’m a reporter.”

He motioned for her to proceed him out the door so she went, hoping the confusion she felt wasn’t showing on her face.

An alert went off on his phone just as they reached the street; Clark put her in a cab to go on ahead, assuring her he’d be right behind her after he tied up a loose end. The cab pulled away from the curb and Felicity dropped her head back with a sigh.

She’d been unfocused all week, thanks to that early morning argument with Oliver on Monday. What page WAS she on? She didn’t even know. She loved their life as it was. Being married still felt like just falling in love; her pulse raced every time she thought about Oliver. William felt like her own son, and their domestic life might be crazy, but it was fun. She’d never been happier. 

But clearly Oliver felt there was something missing, a child they’d create together, and while she wanted that too—theoretically—she didn’t want to mess up the good thing they had going. What if a baby turned their lives upside down and it wasn’t fun anymore? What if William resented a younger sibling? What if her company struggled and failed because she couldn’t devote the same amount of time to it? What if she couldn’t get rid of the baby weight and Oliver lost interest in her?

What if she didn’t like being a mom?

It sounded silly even voicing it in her head, because she was already a mom to Will. But he’d been well on his way to being a teenager by the time she met him; she’d never had to care for an infant, or a toddler, never been sleep-deprived or had to figure out car seat straps. Oliver had, and Samantha, but this was completely unfamiliar territory for her. What if she hated it?

The cab pulled up in front of a fancy Italian restaurant; Felicity swallowed down the lump in her throat and got out.

———————————————

William and Tommy stood on the sidewalk in front of the Queen residence, the trench in the front yard a giant black slash in the earth. Even with the help of the streetlight’s illumination, it was intimidating.

“The house lights should be on. Dad would’ve told her.”

Tommy shifted his weight and shot William a sidelong glance. “Can we even get in if she’s not...here?”

“I have a key. I’ve just never had to use it.”

Tommy clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Well I remember how keys work, so we should be good. Lead the way, sir.”

“Maybe we should call Felicity first.”

“Wouldn’t she know already? Like, have an alert on her phone or something?”

William shrugged. “What if somebody’s in there?”

Tommy paused. “You mean a bad guy?” He seemed to consider this a moment.

“We wouldn’t want to surprise anybody...”

“No, no we wouldn’t want to do that.” He squeezed William’s shoulder and gave it a little shake. “It wouldn’t hurt to call her, would it?”

——————————————

Clark Kent swept into the dining room just as the maitre d’ was pulling out her chair; he must’ve flown to catch up that fast. Felicity watched him cross the room and wondered again why he, of all people, was her host for the evening. 

“Sorry I’m late.” He sat across from her and immediately blocked out the view of the room with his broad shoulders; Felicity leaned back a tad, just to feel like she had some breathing room.

They perused the menu in silence, not speaking to each other until their orders had been taken. Then Clark leaned forward and folded his arms on the table, tipping it his direction; Felicity dropped a hand on her silverware to keep it from sliding away.

“How do you find Metropolis, Ms Smoak?”

“You mean, besides GPS?” It came out before she could stop it, a joke Oliver would react to with an indulgent lift of his mouth and a twinkle in his eye, but Clark only looked faintly baffled. Felicity cleared her throat.

“It’s lovely,” she assured him. 

“Oh good.” He looked incredibly pleased. “I hoped you’d like it.”

Her gaze dropped away from him to study her silverware. “Mr White said it was, um, your idea to invite me out here?” 

He nodded into his water glass as he took a sip. “Your security system came highly recommended to me. By Bruce Wayne.”

Felicity looked back up at him. “You know Bruce?”

Clark smiled. “We’re sort of...colleagues.” His eyebrows lifted strangely then, like he was trying to send her a secret message, maybe. Felicity stared as he went on. 

“He tells me your...system...has been very helpful to his...business.”

Was he speaking in code, or was he having a mild stroke? Could this guy actually be an android? That would explain a lot, actually. She reached for her phone, a stall, and flipped it over to check her messages. In her distraction, she almost missed seeing that the Overwatch app had disappeared off her screen.

She was just about to excuse herself from the table when William’s call came through. Felicity glanced at her dinner companion and held a finger up as she scooted out of her seat and clicked her way rapidly across the dining room to find a quiet corner.

“Will? Is everything—“

“I think something’s wrong with Overwatch. She’s not on my phone anymore, and the house is all dark.”

“She’s off my phone too. Is Tommy with you?”

“He’s here. We’re not sure if we should go into the house.”

Felicity chewed her lip as she calculated. 

“William, I need you and Tommy to go right now to the gym. Ask John to come back with you.”

“John?”

“He used to be your dad’s bodyguard. He’ll know what to do. I’ll contact your father.” Despite the adrenaline rush of uncertainty, Felicity smiled. “It’ll be okay. Okay?”

“Yeah.” It came back in the deep voice of a man but with the trepidation of a kid who just needed his mom. Felicity’s smile went brittle.

She disconnected the call and dialed up Oliver, but it went straight to voicemail. Bruce’s phone did too. Even his second, “special” phone. Her shoes tapped a nervous rhythm as she paced the small spot she’d taken up between the entrance to the dining room and a potted plant. There were only certain diagnostics she could run on her security system from her phone, and none of them could detect Overwatch’s presence. 

This was not good.

Felicity glanced back at her table and the anxious look on Clark Kent’s face. Their dinner had arrived, and he looked like he wanted to get up and come find her. But he could wait; right now she needed a ride back to Starling.

The number was for emergency use only, Bruce had been extremely clear about that, but there didn’t seem to be a better definition of emergency that she could think of. Felicity took a deep breath and connected the call.

“Hello, Alfred? This is Felicity. Felicity Smoak? Hi. I need your help.”


	5. Chapter 5

Oliver’s first thought when he regained consciousness was that his mouth was dry. And by that he meant Probably Should Seek Medical Attention dry. His second thought, after he attempted to reach up and ascertain if he even still HAD a mouth, was that his hands and arms were immobilized. He took a chance and cracked an eyelid open to see if this was, as he desperately hoped, just a very bad dream. 

Bruce Wayne’s profile was not what he wanted to see. 

Wayne’s chin was dropped to his chest, but his eyes were open. He too was tied to a chair, and though he was sitting perfectly still, it was clear by the set of his shoulders that he was royally pissed off. 

Oliver wanted to say something, to let his fellow captive know he was awake, but with zero moisture in his mouth he couldn’t form words properly. He’d seen every Bond movie, and not once had 007 complained of waking up and finding his tongue transformed into a block of wood. 

“Play dead,” Bruce muttered, without moving his lips, it seemed. Oliver blinked once, processing, and almost jumped when a metal door behind him creaked open with a squeal and a clang. He slammed his eyes shut and tried to remain limp.

The bucket of water was an unpleasant surprise. 

They both gasped at the shock, and though his first instinct was to shake his head, Oliver’s extreme thirst won out; he let the water drip off his hair into his eyes, waiting for gravity to bring it closer to his mouth.

Bruce, on the other hand, just sat there looking angry.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” The voice was pleasant, educated. Faintly familiar. Oliver licked his newly-wet lips and wracked his recent memories for a match. 

“What do you want?” Bruce growled, sounding somehow more bored than mad. Like this kind of fraternity stunt happened to him regularly. What a douche.

“In due time, gentlemen. In due time.”

The voice was directly behind him; even if his shoulders weren’t immobilized, Oliver still wouldn’t be able to turn enough to identify the speaker.

“Whatever it is, get it over with,” Bruce continued. Oliver shot him a look, but he was busy glaring at the wall. 

The voice made a tsk sound and chuckled. “Patience, my friend. Very soon.”

Very soon. Very soon. Oliver’s heart rate kicked up a notch. 

He suddenly recognized the voice.

Footsteps retreated and the door scraped shut, but Oliver waited for Bruce—seated at a better angle to see the door—to nod his head that it was okay to talk.

“Okay—“

“Bruce—“

They both paused.

“Just—“

“Wait—“

Oliver huffed in frustration and Wayne favored him with a glare in his general direction.

“You first,” Oliver said.

“You need to keep calm—“

“I’m calm! I am totally calm.”

Wayne made a growling noise. “Would you please?”

“I’m just letting you know this is probably somebody wanting money. Or thinking I have government secrets. Which I don’t. Yet.” Oliver watched Bruce’s face scrunch up in annoyed confusion. 

“You think this is about you?”

“You don’t?”

“No.”

“You think they want you.”

“Yes.”

“We’re both billionaires, you know. And I’m the mayor. This isn’t even your city—“

“Alright, stop. Just stop.” Bruce looked like he was thinking about chewing through his restraints. 

“Look,” Oliver plowed on anyway, “I recognize that voice. He was in the trench outside my house tonight when you picked me up. We have to get out of here because my son is probably on his way home right this minute—“

Bruce cut him off. “You recognize the voice?”

“Yes. I do.”

Oliver watched his mouth tick up briefly in annoyance. Like this was just another wrinkle in his evening plans. 

William and—God help him—Tommy would be no match for whatever might be waiting for them at the house. Where was Overwatch? Did she know this had happened to him? Could she lead the authorities to their location? Was Felicity already on it?

“What are you thinking?” he pushed, beginning to panic.

Bruce sighed. “I'm thinking we wait.”

“Wait? For what?”

Bruce turned his head and looked directly at him for the first time, as if the answer was obvious.

“For reinforcements.”

—————————————

“Thank you, Mr...Mr Alfred. I really appreciate this.”

“It is my pleasure, Ms Smoak.”

“Oh. Felicity, please. Bruce told me to only contact you in an emergency, which I’m sure this is. An emergency, I mean.”

“Undoubtedly.”

Felicity bit her lip and let her eyes dart around the cockpit as she searched for a non-cringy topic of conversation.

“I did not know butlers needed to have a license to...fly.” She trailed off at the end, feeling like an idiot. Because that definitely was not a qualifying topic. Alfred gave her a polite butler smile without taking his eyes off the flying. 

Her phone was clutched in her hands, so she composed a text to William to check in.

“Even with your technological upgrades, Ms Smoak, I’m afraid your instant message won’t go through up here.” Alfred took his hand off the controls long enough to point out a blank screen the size of her tablet on the control panel between them. “You may video chat, however.”

Felicity couldn’t help staring. “Thank...you?”

As badly as she wanted to check in with Will, how would she explain where she was, or what she was doing with a stately British companion? In her present agitated state she could not trust herself to answer the inevitable questions without giving away secrets that technically did not belong to her. Bruce would kill her.

“Do you think they’re together? Oliver and Bruce?” Felicity set her phone back in her lap and twisted her fingers together nervously. 

Alfred favored her with the kind of smile he might give a child who’d just asked for proof that Santa Claus existed. His gaze flicked to the screen. “Press that green button if you please, madam.”

She licked her lips and reached out a shaking hand to do as he asked. The screen immediately came to life with a street map of some kind. She studied it as it steadily zoomed in to reveal individual streets and intersections. A thumbnail in the upper right corner showed a tiny representation of a jet along with speed and altitude numbers that were mind-numbingly large. Felicity chose not to think too hard about that.

“Is the map zeroing in on...?”

“Master Bruce,” he confirmed. “And your husband, presumably.”

“Does Bruce have a tracker or something?”

“Oh, yes,” he replied pleasantly. Do you think it might rain today, Alfred? Indeed, madam. It was all so surreal, Felicity wanted to face palm.

“Do you have any idea who might be behind this?” She sounded like she was in a bad tv cop drama. Except the butler probably didn’t do it, in this case. It was possible either the extreme stress or the high altitude was robbing her brain of oxygen.

Alfred began banking them left before he answered. “Master Bruce has a long list of enemies, Ms Smoak, but I suspect this time the perpetrator was after a different target.”

Felicity swallowed hard. “You mean, Oliver?”

The butler’s mustache twitched. “Perhaps.”

She didn’t know what to do with that answer. “I would love to talk to my son, but I don’t know how to explain...this.” She swirled her hands in the air to illustrate All of the Things. 

“Fear not, Ms Smoak. I have a solution.”

—————————————

John led the way into the darkened house.

“You’re sure she didn’t ask you to call the cops.”

Tommy, keeping a respectable—but not TOO respectable—distance, answered.

“Nope. She said, find John and ask him to come back to the house. We are just following orders. Sir.”

William, sandwiched between the two men, rolled his eyes. John stopped suddenly and held up his fist the way guys do in action movies and the two of them lurched into him. Tommy was opening his mouth to comment on the signal thing, but William could sense the impending sarcasm and elbowed him sharply in the ribs to discourage him.

“Stay here until I look the place over.”

John melted into the shadows in a way that was somehow more terrifying than the idea that a bad guy could be lurking in the house. Tommy locked a hand around William’s arm and held on tight.

“Ow.”

“Shh.”

“For real, Uncle Tommy. Stop.”

The phone in William’s pocket vibrated and Tommy almost jumped through the ceiling.

“It’s Felicity,” the teen whispered excitedly. He accepted the video chat, only to squint in pain when the screen lit up the dark interior of the foyer with a picture of Felicity sitting awkwardly on a tropical beach. 

“Hey there, Will.” Her smile was nervous, and a bit strained. “Are you safe?”

“We’re fine. Well, John’s checking the house for bad guys, but so far we’re fine. Why are you in front of a terrible green screen of a beach?”

Her eyes flicked heavenward momentarily. “It’s such a long story, I can’t even. Have you had any response from Overwatch?”

William shook his head. “She hasn’t said anything. All the lights are out, too.”

Felicity bit her lip in thought. “It all could’ve been knocked out at the street. From the trench. I wish I knew if it was on purpose.”

Beside her, Alfred’s hand entered her peripheral vision as he pressed and held a button marked MUTE. “It most assuredly was foul play, I’m afraid.”

Felicity nodded. “Okay, Will? If John tells you the coast is clear, I want you to check the panel. And the breaker box. If everything’s dead, I’ll walk you through Step Two.”

Tommy, who had remained blessedly silent to this point, leaned over William’s shoulder to interrupt. “Uh, what’s Step Two?”

Felicity only wrinkled her nose. 

————————————

“What did you mean by reinforcements?”

It had been, maybe, fifteen minutes since the bucket of water, and Oliver was beginning to shiver. Bruce, meanwhile, had been working the ropes and ties as best he could. It would be kind of fascinating to watch if he wasn’t in the same stupid predicament himself.

Bruce was apparently not taking questions at the moment.

“Look,” Oliver sighed. “At this point I don’t care what you and my wife get up to in your off hours. Because I know it’s not THAT.”

Bruce’s shoulders jumped once. His version of a laugh, probably.

“She clearly loves what she does. With you. It seems to make her life more fulfilling.” He swallowed, his mouth still uncomfortably dry. “So, if she wants to do that instead of start a family, I won’t stand in the way.”

Oliver hadn’t really planned for all that to come out of his mouth, but something about their current circumstances made it seem like the right time to unburden his soul. For his part, Bruce paused from his escape attempt to look up at him.

“It’s not that she doesn’t want to start a family, you know.”

“It...what?”

Bruce looked very annoyed that he had to keep explaining things. “Her father abandoned her when she was a kid. It’s affected her whole life.”

Oliver just kept staring. Had he been hit on the head when they tranqued him?

Bruce must’ve been wondering the same thing, because his next sentence was a bit louder and a bit slower. “She’s terrified that history will repeat itself.”

And just like that, Oliver’s heart dropped into his stomach. “Oh, God! I would NEVER abandon her! Or any of my children! She can’t possibly think that I could—“

“Queen, you idiot, IT’S NOT YOU SHE’S WORRIED ABOUT!” 

The concrete room rang for several seconds with the echo of Bruce Wayne’s roar. Oliver was finding it hard to breathe, suddenly. He wanted to lean forward and put his head between his knees, but the best he could do while tied to a chair was drop his chin to his chest. 

Bruce sighed in frustration and went back to wiggling against the ropes. 

—————————————-

“Felicity? There’s nothing.”

“Okay. Don’t panic. Here’s what I need you to do.”

“Uh, I think Tommy’s panicking.”

“Well tell him to stop it.”

Felicity pressed the mute button and looked at Alfred. “Change of plans. Can you drop me somewhere near my house?”

The butler nodded amiably and began adjusting various controls. She was slightly disappointed he hadn’t said something like ‘Very good, madam’. Felicity let up on the mute button and focused on the screen.

Ten minutes later William and Tommy were climbing down into the trench while John Diggle crouched above them, illuminating their descent with a flashlight. 

“Let me go first,” Tommy ordered sternly as his foot landed in mud at the bottom of the ladder. 

William swung the flashlight on his phone around until it was lighting up the underside of his chin. It might not have happened on purpose, but it was an impressive look nonetheless. “Do you know where you’re going?”

“Well actually...no.”

William turned without comment and led the way. He looked so much like Oliver Queen in that moment it made Tommy’s breath catch; he glanced up toward John’s flashlight, and though he couldn’t see the man’s face, the light bobbed once in acknowledgement. He’d seen it too. Tommy squelched gingerly after the teen.

“What are we looking for, exactly?”

William was already zeroing in on the spot in question. “We need the point where Overwatch connects into the house utilities. There should be a conduit...Here.”

He handed his phone back without looking; Tommy almost fumbled the pass off, but William was already crouching at a spot at the wall of the trench and didn’t notice. Above them, John shifted over to increase their lighting. 

William didn’t speak for the next few minutes except to instruct Tommy where to shine the flashlight. He worked methodically but with no hesitation. 

Tommy whistled a long note. “You and Felicity didn’t talk for more than two minutes. And yet you know exactly what you’re doing.”

William shrugged once. “She let me help some with the installation before we moved here.”

“Still, this is impressive, young man.”

He shrugged again, the equivalent of ‘whatever’, and kept on working.

—————————————

The roof of Diggle’s gym turned out to be the ideal place for a super secret, never-filed-a-flight-plan jet to land. Alfred completed a textbook landing and flipped switches to power down the engines with impeccable precision. Felicity made a show of smoothing her skirt to dry her sweaty palms; the effortless calm of the English always made her nervous. 

“Well thank you, Mr...Alfred. That was lovely.” She eye rolled internally on her own behalf.

“Are you able to get down to the street from here, Ms Smoak?”

“Mmm? Oh, yes. Absolutely. I have a key to the roof door. I am all set.” 

“Will you need my assistance rescuing Master Bruce?”

“As long as William can get Overwatch up and running by the time I get home, I should be in great shape. But, I’ll let you know?”

“Very good, madam.”

Felicity had to pull her lips in to keep from giggling with delight.

“Thanks again, Alfred. See you around.”

“I look forward to it.”

She climbed out of the cockpit and hopped down onto the roof with a merry wave for the butler. He nodded once, like a sage wizard who’d just seen her through a magical forest. She moved a safe distance away and turned back to watch as the jet lifted off and banked away into the night.

Felicity fumbled for her phone and dialed William, though it was Tommy who answered.

“I’ve landed. I mean, I’m here. I am here in Starling, and I will see you in five minutes. How’s he doing?”

There was a slight pause on the other end of the line. “See for yourself,” Tommy replied, the pride evident in his voice. 

Felicity pulled the phone away from her ear in time to see the Overwatch app reinstall on her screen. Her mouth lifted into a tight smile.

“Tell Will I’m on my way. Overwatch? Are you there? I need you.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter of this little adventure! Let's hope all's well that ends well now that Overwatch has been resurrected and Felicity's in charge. Gosh, I usually have a couple of song suggestions to go with the last chapter, don't I? How about Weezer's The End of the Game, and Feeling Good, by Michael Buble. Thanks, as always, for your kudos and comments; I continue to be the absolute worst at replying, but please know I read and love each and every one.  
> See notes at the end for a little surprise! ;)

A Felicity-shaped shadow separated itself from the darkness outside the influence of the streetlights and glided toward the trench.  
“Mom!” Cool exterior forgotten, William launched himself up the final rung of the ladder and straight into her, and Felicity’s heart broke wide open. He sort of flopped over her, his taller frame all angles and edges from a recent growth spurt. She wrapped her arms around his skinny waist and squeezed tight, tight enough to cover Oliver’s share too, until they could get him back.

Tommy’s head appeared at the top of the ladder, his grim smile helpfully illuminated by John’s flashlight. They needed to get going, because Overwatch already knew where Oliver was being held and was working out a route and an extraction plan, but first Felicity needed a minute to hold her kid.

Her kid. The ongoing argument with her husband about having a baby seemed so stupid, all of a sudden. Of course she wanted to be a mother. Oliver Queen was the best man she’d ever known; he’d already raised an amazing human being, and if he wanted another—with her--there was no way she could say no. She stood there in the dark with her arms around the lanky teenager and thought about experiencing pregnancy and late-night feedings, teething and tantrums, and knew she was ready. She couldn’t wait to tell her husband.

William pulled back first, an awkward release of hands and arms that weren’t used to such contact. Felicity patted his back affectionately and sniffed, overcome by both her decision and the thought of Oliver being held captive. Tommy was out of the hole by now, standing next to John with his hands hanging loose at his sides. John was still as a statue, awaiting orders. Felicity glanced up at her son’s face and nodded once.

“Let’s go get your dad.”

\----------------------------------------------------

They were both mostly dry by the time someone returned to the room. Oliver shot a look to Bruce, who only tightened the skin around his eyes in response, but it spoke volumes.

He wasn’t free of the restraints yet.

“Gentlemen. How are you finding your accommodations?” It was the same voice as before, and once again the question of what that guy had been doing in the trench in front of his house swirled through Oliver’s brain. They’d spoken; why hadn’t the man taken him then? And what, exactly, had he been doing down there anyway? Oliver’s phone was gone, and no police had come to their rescue yet, so he had to assume Overwatch had been disabled somehow. Was that what he’d been doing? Was his nemesis a hacker? Despite their lengthy argument—and subsequent unhappy silence—he still didn’t believe Bruce Wayne was the target of this kidnapping.

Oliver matched his companion’s surly silence, willing their captor to keep monologuing and maybe give up some valuable clue about what he wanted, or intended to do. He could hear the figure pacing behind him, and then he came close enough for Oliver to almost get a look at the side of his face. 

“Do you think she’ll guess it’s her I’m after?” the man asked pleasantly, as if pondering the chance for rain. He was clearly addressing Bruce. Oliver’s pulse began to pound, because based on the amount of rage suddenly clouding Wayne’s expression, the man had hit a trigger. And Oliver was beginning to understand who “she” was.

“You leave her out of this,” Bruce growled, low and dark and dangerous. Oliver’s fingers twitched, processing faster than his brain, maybe, because he was suddenly feeling an overwhelming urge to get out of these restraints, to chew through them if necessary.

His body was certain they were talking about Felicity. 

\----------------------------------------------

John Diggle tapped his phone to hang up and looked pointedly at Felicity. “Lyla’s made the call. Where do you want me?”

Felicity had her head bent to her tablet, scouring the information Overwatch had gathered and compiled in the last five minutes. They were still in Starling, both Oliver and Bruce, in a warehouse by the docks. Overwatch was ready to call in the SCPD, the FBI, and several branches of the armed forces, but Felicity had a felt like that was overkill. Not to mention—considering Bruce Wayne’s nighttime gig--complicated. With a deep breath to steady her nerves she’d asked John to contact Lyla and get ARGUS involved instead. 

She looked up from the screen at the three faces staring back at her, waiting for orders. “John, you’re with me. Tommy, I want you and William to stay here, at home. Overwatch is armed again, which means nothing’s getting in without making a lot of noise. I’ve put in a request for SCPD to send a squad car just in case. They don’t know about Oliver being missing, so don’t say anything. You’ll be fine until we get back.”

Felicity hugged both of them briefly, then stepped back and ran a hand over her hair to check her ponytail, ready for battle. John nodded to Tommy and William as he took her elbow and steered her toward the street, but just before they were out of whisper range Felicity turned back.

“Hold down the fort; we’ll get him back in one piece. And while I’m gone, maybe you two can figure out why Overwatch has my voice again.”

Tommy laughed nervously; William went pale.

\------------------------------------------------

The bare bulb overhead went out first, plunging all three of them into darkness and causing the man to shuffle his feet with sudden uncertainty. Oliver heard Bruce grunt his approval, like he’d been waiting for the lights to go out. Muffled voices tinged with concern came at them through the door, letting the two prisoners know they were being held by more than just this guy. The man’s feet continued to scuffle the concrete in seeming indecision, as if he didn’t know whether or not to panic. His steps finally receded unsteadily to the door, and Oliver thought he heard the man mutter “Too soon” as he went. They heard the metal door scrape open but no light flooded in from outside, which meant the power was probably out everywhere. The open door let in more sounds of panic from the hallways; Oliver made himself breathe deeply to keep it from becoming contagious. 

There was a sudden brilliant flash of light and a terrifically loud bang, followed by more voices barking orders. He waited for the white glare behind his eyelids to recede, his senses reeling, all the while wiggling against his restraints as best he could. This could be a rescue, or it could be a bigger fish come to steal the spoils, and in either case he’d prefer not to be tied up and helpless when they showed up. Over the other sounds of chaos, he thought he heard the legs of Bruce’s chair scraping awkwardly across the floor.

The scared noises were falling away in favor of a calmer exchange of information, presumably from the authority figures who’d thrown the flashbang in the first place. Oliver heard the hiss of a flare come to life, and blinked painfully at the red glow illuminating the hallway. He was just about to ask Bruce what he thought was happening when a slim shadow took up occupancy in the doorway, followed immediately by a giant one, blocking out the light from the hall.

“Oliver? Oliver!”

And then the shape morphed into his wife; she flung herself across the room to latch on to his neck, and Oliver thought he’d never felt something so nice in all his life.

“Felicity? How…?”

By then John was there to work his bonds loose, while Felicity let go long enough to check on Wayne, and in under a minute both men were free. Oliver stood and scooped Felicity against him in a fierce hug.

“Felicity…how are you here?” He murmured it into her hair, overjoyed to see her and not a little put out that Bruce Wayne had to be a witness to their reunion.

She pulled back from his hug with a sly grin. “Overwatch, of course.”

Behind them, John coughed once into his fist.

“ARGUS helped,” she added, a bit sheepishly. 

Oliver threw his friend and former bodyguard a smirk. “Subtle.”

John chuckled as the two men clasped hands before Felicity turned back to run her hands over her husband.

“What did they do to you? Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine. Are you?” He was looking at Bruce, who nodded once with a grunt. “We’re fine,” Oliver repeated. She moved in against him, going for another hug; he pulled her close with a hand against the back of her head.

“William all right?” he murmured into her hair. He felt her nod.

“He’s with Tommy. And Overwatch. She’ll keep them safe. Do you know who had you? Or why?”

Oliver shook his head, still hardly believing any of it had happened. “They drugged us as we were leaving dinner, and we woke up here.” Oliver’s eyes met Bruce Wayne’s over the top of Felicity’s head, in silent agreement not to mention at this point that his wife had probably been the target. 

John put a hand up to one ear, listening to someone report, then nodded. For the first time, Oliver noticed he was carrying a gun.

“We’re clear. They’ve rounded up a couple of henchmen, but their leader got away.” Wayne made an unhappy noise at the back of his throat. 

Felicity looked up at Oliver with an expression that made his heart skip a beat. “Let’s get you home,” she said softly.

The salt air of the docks hit them as they exited the building; Oliver paused to take a deep breath of the night breeze and Felicity stopped with him, still tucked against his side with her arm around his waist. He felt Bruce Wayne pause at his shoulder.

“I’m sorry he got away,” Felicity said fiercely in response to Wayne’s dark look. “I’d like to give him a piece of my mind.”

The man’s shoulders jumped, his idea of a laugh. “I have a friend I can call on to help. We’ll get him.”

At John Diggle’s direction, the three of them moved on into the night, heading for the ARGUS transport vehicles waiting to take them home. Before they parted ways, Bruce leaned in once more to give Felicity a pointed look.

“What did you think of my friend, by the way?” Felicity’s brow knit in question. “You had dinner with him tonight, yes?”

Her mouth made a little “Oh” shape and her eyes blew wide. “You mean…Clark? That’s the friend who’s going to help you?” Bruce winked at her. She followed Oliver into their designated car on autopilot. “Oh wow. Things about him just became so unbelievably clear,” she murmured as she closed the door.

Bruce Wayne threw back his head and laughed.

\-----------------------------------------

An hour later Oliver emerged from their half-finished master bathroom with damp hair and a tired smile. Felicity was tucked up against the headboard in pajamas scattered with cartoon sloths, a mug of tea cradled in her hands.

“Hi,” she said softly.

He flopped onto the bed without jostling her and sighed out a long breath. “What a day.”

“Yeah.”

He wriggled around enough to be able to see her face from his prone position. “I’m sorry you had to leave your trip to come back and rescue me.” She smiled down at him and his brow crinkled with curiosity. “Come to think of it, how did you get back so fast?”

She took a sip of tea and smiled benignly. “That is a bit of a long story.”

“Let me guess: you can’t say.”

She chuckled. “Not really. Sorry.”

“S’okay. I’m starting to get used to it, your secret double life.”

Felicity twisted around to set her mug on the nightstand before leaning close enough to wrap her arms around the top half of her husband and pull him into her lap. He hummed happily and closed his eyes. His fingers found her arm and stroked across her skin.

“Hey, I have something I want to talk about,” she said.

He hummed again, an invitation for her to go on.

“I had something of an epiphany tonight.”

“Oh?”

“Mmhm. In the middle of all the planning and rescuing, Will called me Mom, and I realized it felt right, and good, and I want more of that. I want somebody’s first word to be ‘Mama’ and for them to mean me when they say it.” Her voice caught as her breath hitched, and Oliver’s fingers froze. He opened his eyes and looked at her in wonder.

“Are you serious?”

She nodded, her eyes bright. Within seconds, his were full of unshed tears, and he was surging to sit up straight and gather her into his arms. His mouth opened and then closed. He swallowed and tried again.

“You’re ready. With all the crazy going on, and the renovations, and the giant hole in the front yard. Everything.”

She was laughing by then, safe in his embrace and amused by his earnest questions. “Yes, Oliver. I’m ready for everything.” And then she captured his chin in her fingers and held him still so she could kiss him, the seal on her promise. His shock at her decision melted fast as the kiss deepened, a prelude to other things; but before it could go further, he disengaged and pulled back to get a good look at her.

“So, can we start tonight?” 

Felicity moved back in for more kisses. “I am totally on board with that plan.”

\-----------------------------------------

THIRTEEN MONTHS LATER

“I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“Honey, I promise you it will be okay. You can do this.”

“Maybe there’s another option, something we haven’t thought of—”

“Trust me when I tell you this is going to work. It happens every day. Just breathe. You’ll be fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“I promise.”

“…Okay.” 

“Oliver?”

“Yeah?”

“That was Overwatch,” Felicity supplied helpfully.

“Oh. What’s up, Overwatch?”

“There’s another phone call for you. It’s the Governor.”

Oliver rolled his eyes but nodded as if his security system could see him. “Hey, Felicity, I’d better take this. Can I call you back if I need you?”

“Absolutely. But everything’s going to be fine. When I talked to them last, they were headed out to take a walk and get to know each other. They’ll probably be back any minute. People leave their babies with nannies every day. Call John if you don’t believe me. Love you.”

“Love you too.” He directed Overwatch to switch to the other call with his separation anxiety only partly soothed. “Hello, Governor.”

“Queen, you old so-and-so. How the hell are ya?”

Oliver winced at the volume of the man’s voice and began to answer with the requisite niceties. 

“So listen,” governor the cut in, verbally running over Oliver, as usual, “you heard about ole Senator Tooney kicking the bucket last week.”

“Of course—”

“Yeah, well, I get to appoint his successor, and I want you, Queen.”

“Me, sir?”

“Yes, you.”

“To be a US Senator?”

“This is Oliver Queen, isn’t it?”

“Ye—yes, sir.”

“Then yes. I want you. You’ll have a whole year to serve before you have to run in an election. I don’t need your answer right now. Tomorrow morning will be fine.”

“Um—”

The line went dead.

Oliver licked his lips and stared off into space as he parsed through the conversation and tried to make sense of it. “What the hell just happened?” he asked the air.

“The state governor invoked his right to appoint a US Senator to replace the recently deceased Senator Tooney,” Overwatch explained.

“Yeah, I get that, Overwatch, just…how…”

“The Seventeenth Amendment in 1913 allowed for—”

“Okay, thanks, Overwatch. I’ll study later. I think you’d better call Felicity back.”

“Yes, Oliver.”

Before Overwatch could finish dialing, there was a knock at the door.

“Baby Mia and the new nanny are at the door,” Overwatch announced, though Oliver had already crossed the room in two quick strides and pulled it open. A skinny, fresh-faced kid who looked like he still needed his parents’ permission to be out alone stood in the doorway with a friendly grin. Five-month old Mia Smoak-Queen was strapped to his front in Oliver’s favorite baby carrier.

“Hi! Mr Queen?”

Oliver only had eyes for his baby daughter and the smile of recognition on her chubby cheeks, but he managed to pull his focus away long enough to answer. “I am. And you are…?”

“Barry. Barry Allen? Your wife hired me to be the nanny.”

“Oliver? Liz says Felicity is on another call, but she’ll be in touch as soon as she can.”

“Thanks, Overwatch.” Oliver still couldn’t believe his former EA had defected politics to work for his wife.

Barry cleared his throat politely, a reminder that he and the baby were still standing on the front porch. Oliver’s brows jumped and he stepped back enough for the new nanny to enter the house. Mia cooed happily, making her daddy grin like an idiot; she tended to have that effect on him.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Barry was saying in the meantime, swinging the diaper bag off his shoulder and leaving it on the back of the couch. 

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Oliver ran a hand up through his hair. “Sorry I couldn’t be in on the interview process. Life's a little crazy when the state legislature's in session."

“That’s okay. I already knew Felicity from all the voice work. You know, for Overwatch.”

“Yeah. I remember.”

“So when I heard you were looking for a nanny, I put my name in, and voila.” Barry spread his arms wide like a showman and nearly caught Tommy Merlyn in the gut as the latter entered the house unannounced.

“Tommy Merlyn has entered the house,” Overwatch announced.

“Yeah.” Oliver’s blood pressure was beginning to go up. He just wanted to talk to his wife and hold his kid.

Tommy stepped around Barry and the baby with his hands in his pockets and a gleam in his eye.

“I am so glad you guys never went back to that geeky dude’s voice after you were kidnapped. What a loser. This is the only Overwatch voice I will ever accept.”

Barry looked at Oliver, his eyes wide. “You were KIDNAPPED?”

Merlyn nodded, pleased to have an audience. “By Felicity’s dad.”

Oliver groaned. “Tommy—”

“You were kidnapped by your father-in-law??”

“Okay, could we get back on topic, please--” 

Tommy would not be wrangled; he waved a hand at the nanny. “Who’s this? And why is he wearing your baby?”

“Barry Allen,” the kid said brightly, his smile a mile wide.

“The geeky dude,” Oliver added with a scowl at his best friend. “And the new nanny.” 

“Oliver? Felicity’s on the phone.”

“Thank God. Honey?”

“What’s the matter? Overwatch said it’s a matter of life and death.”

“Well, that might be overstating it a little, but it does involve a little bit of death. The governor. He called because he wants to appoint me to the US Senate.”

Tommy’s jaw dropped. There was a beat of silence before Felicity spoke. “He can DO that?”

“Apparently.”

“The Seventeenth Amendment in 1913—”

“NOT NOW, Overwatch.” Oliver, Felicity, and Tommy all said it at the same time.

“He says I have to give him an answer by tomorrow morning.” Oliver could feel a cold sweat coming on. Mia began to fuss, so he reached for her without thinking, lifting her from the carrier with Barry’s silent assistance. She fit perfectly in the crook of his arm and settled immediately.

“I’m just gonna…” Barry whispered and gesticulated his way around the two men in the living room, grabbing his messenger bag and disappearing out the front door. Neither of them paid any attention.

“Well,” Felicity said after a breath. “It’s what you always wanted, isn’t it? A job in Washington?”

“Sure, but now? With the baby, and William close to graduating, and us finally getting the house the way we want it?”

“Well, we’ll keep the house. You’ll have to have a residence in the state. And you know I’ve always been interested in expanding the company into the DC area. This would be the perfect opportunity.”

“But William?”

He could practically hear his wife shrug over the phone. “He’ll be in college before we know it, and maybe not in-state. That shouldn’t be a reason for you to say no.”

“So I should say yes?”

“The governor wants to appoint you, Oliver. I’d say that’s an honor. It can’t have happened more than a few times in the history of this country.”

“US Senators have been appointed to their positions two hundred and one times,” Overwatch informed them; a little smugly, Oliver thought. Tommy snorted softly. The three of them—and Overwatch—seemed to hold their breaths for a second.

“Oliver?” Felicity asked. “Do you want to say yes?”

Oliver let out his breath slowly. “I do.” 

“Then call the governor back. We’re moving to Washington DC.”

“Okay. See you soon? We have a lot to talk about.”

“I’m on my way.”

Beside him, Tommy pumped his fist triumphantly. Oliver shot him a look as he carried Mia with him to the kitchen, already thinking about what to make for dinner. “What are you so excited about?”

“We’re moving to Washington.”

“We?”

“Sure, buddy. We’ve hardly spent a day apart since we were six years old.”

“I am aware.”

“Plus, you’ll need a lawyer.”

Oliver handed the baby off to him so he could start cooking, a crinkle between his brows.

“You’re not a lawyer, Tommy.”

“No, but I’m really good at retaining them. Especially if they’re female. And hot.”

Oliver huffed a surprised laugh. “Well, that will be invaluable help.”

The front door slammed the way it always did when William came home; something in Oliver’s chest eased, knowing both of his children were back under the same roof. The teen appeared in the kitchen and automatically took his baby sister from Tommy’s arms just before reaching into the fridge for a bottle of juice. Mia blew spit bubbles, but otherwise didn’t protest.

“Hey, Uncle Tommy? Some cop’s in the process of writing you a ticket.”

“Aw, shoot. Again? Overwatch?”

“I’m on it, Tommy.”

Oliver glared at his best friend. “What is my security system going to do about your parking ticket?”

Tommy grinned and winked at him. “Like it never even happened.”

Oliver switched the glare to his son. “I have a feeling you had something to do with this.”

William only shrugged.

“Hey, what do you think about moving to Washington DC so I can be a Senator?”

Again with the shrug.

“You don’t care?”

“I’ve been looking at Georgetown for college anyway. Works for me. Hey Tommy, grab me a yogurt out of there, would ya?”

Oliver turned back to the water he was heating on the stove and let the sounds of the people in his kitchen surround him. He wasn’t a lonely single father anymore, trying to get his foot in the door in the political world. He no longer had the burdens of the mistakes he’d made in his twenties overshadowing his life. He had a beautiful daughter—Mia squealed on cue, a reminder to everyone that she was in the room—and a son on the verge of making his own way in the world. Best of all, he was married to the love of his life.

“Felicity’s home,” Overwatch informed them.

The front door opened and closed, and Oliver smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another adventure awaits Oliver & Co in the nation's capital! Stay tuned for Part Three, Overwatch: Adventures in Babysitting.


End file.
